Two Wrongs Equals A Right
by Amethyst Raindrops 16
Summary: Anybody related to Voldemort must be inherently evil... right? Harry Potter thinks so. Nobody good could come from Voldemort. When Dumbledore announces that Voldemort has a grandson named Percy Jackson, Harry's already labeled Percy as EVIL and put him on his enemy list. But Percy Jackson is not whats expected by a long shot and he's not going to take any prejudices lying down...
1. Calm Before the Storm

**Two Wrongs Equals A Right**

**Author: Amethyst Raindrops 16**

**Disclaimer: Rick Riordan own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

**Chapter One:**

_**Temper, Temper**_

** H**onestly, I really should start being suspicious of anything that feels even slightly normal. 

Its okay, you can laugh, but I'm being serious here (for once). It would probably just be easier in the long run, you know, if I just started acting like an old codger who thinks every Tom, Dick and Harry is out to get him.

Well, actually, I did have this kid named Tom try to kill me once during the Titan War… heavy emphasis on the word 'try'. There weren't any guys named Dick or Harry with him, though; only these really creepy twin girls, whose names were Teresa and Tammy. Maybe every Tom, Teresa, and Tammy is out to get me… no that doesn't sound as cool as Tom, Dick, and Harry…

Anyways.

This morning was so normal. Like that kind of normal that makes you wonder what you are even doing with your life normal. Maybe I should be a little more skeptical, but hey. When your life is filled with danger, action, and death threats, you will welcome normalcy too. 

I grudgingly pulled myself out of bed after waking up with a (very manly) scream from the usual nightmares. Nightmares about the Titan War, nightmares about Tartarus, nightmares about the war with Gaea, nightmares about the deaths of my friends… the list goes on and on. Annabeth would say that I should get help – or at least talk to someone – but considering her dreams are filled with the same gruesome images, she can't really talk. This time, it was the Tartarus nightmare. 

'_Right on schedule,'_ I thought sarcastically. _'Thursday morning, check. Wake up from nightmare, check. Today is shaping up to be a pretty normal day.'_

I know what you're thinking. You're all like, "Percy, honey. You just woke up and barely two things have happened. You can't already be categorizing today as normal!" But stranger things have happened in the morning so I figure that if nothing has happened to me directly after I wake up, then I'm off to a pretty good start.

I went to my bathroom (it was times like this that I was thankful that Poseidon didn't have any other children who I would have to share my cabin with) and took a shower. Honestly, the whole shower action was completely pointless considering I was just going to go outside and train in the balmy 90 degree weather we've been having lately. The only purpose of the shower was one, to remove the tearstains that had no doubt accumulated after a full night of reliving my own personal hell, and two, to kill time. Yep, the great Percy Jackson, slayer of monsters, destroyer of Titans, and bane of Giants, was procrastinating. 

I didn't want to go outside and have to put on my "hero" mask again. Don't get me wrong; I'm not like depressed or so damaged by the war(s) that I can't function in every day life anymore, I'm still me. But seriously, I swear by all the gods, that if one more little first year camper stares at me with wonder filled, hero worshipping eyes that practically sparkle with adoring admiration, or (even worse and more embarrassingly) try to bow to me, I am going to go insane. Well, _more_ insane then. I guess you can't go somewhere if you're already there.

Only when I was sure that Dad was going to call me up and tell me that there was no more water left in the ocean did I finally step out of my shower sanctuary. Only bothering with a towel because some people (cough, cough, Connor and Travis Stoll) have an annoying habit of stealing my clothes, I exited the bathroom and attempted to find something clean to wear. 

That proved to be a harder task than I thought. 

I'm no Drew, thank the gods, but I would prefer to not look like I just rolled out of Tartarus. Been there, done that, got the scars, and decided that the whole "I-just-got-tortured-and-fought-every-known-monste r-in-literal-hell-and-haven't-showered-in-weeks" look wasn't for me.

I started neatly searching through the color-coordinated piles of freshly washed clothes for something suitable to wear. In case you don't speak fluent Percy, that basically means that I grabbed the first shirt off the floor of my cabin that didn't have A) some huge blood stain covering most of the fabric, B) a rip/hole/tear from some weapon (thanks, Clarisse), or C) a stench like Smelly Gabe on a good day. 

Eventually throwing on a black wife beater and some faded cut-off jeans when my ADHD brain decided that it was done focusing on my rather pathetic wardrobe, I wasted about 3½ more minutes making my cabin neat (and I use a very loose definition of the term "neat"). When the sheets were straight enough and the clothes crumpled on the floor were sufficiently hidden under my bed, I pulled on a pair of black converse, double-checked to make sure Riptide was in my pocket (it was) and left my cabin. 

Squinting against the shock of the sun's glaring light compared to the more muted light in my cabin that my eyes were used to, I jogged slightly as I recognized Annabeth two cabins away. She looked like a goddess with her golden curls catching the sun light and her tanned skin almost glowing by the way she sat half shielded by the shadow of the Athena Cabin. She looked so beautiful, so flawless, like she had no cares in the world and had never had to bear the brute of torture or pain or…

_ "Annabeth!" I screamed, my voice hoarse and raw. _

_My bloodshot eyes watched in agonized panic as Annabeth, the girl that I loved, was dragged away by… something. My eyes met hers and in that moment, any hope of escape, any hope of rescue, any hope of life faded away. In that instant, when I saw her pain and agony, I felt true hopelessness._

_She looked dead._

_Her blonde curls had turned brown with dirt and blood and hung in matted knots. Her skin had lost its sun-kissed tan the way I knew mine had and the parts that weren't covered in bruises or blood had a sickly translucent color. Nico would be considered tan in comparison at this point. She was covered with wounds and bruises, but the worse part was her eyes. They were dead and pained and resigned._

"_Percy, no!" she mouthed._

_She was always the smart one, trying to avoid the monster's wrath that only worsened when we fought against them. I wanted the pain to stop, I didn't want to make our captors angrier, but Annabeth came before any personal pain of mine._

_I struggled against the heavy chains that held me to my prison and bit down on my dry, cracked lips as the metal dug into the inflamed skin on my wrists and ankles. I felt a piercing, shredding pain and I howled in agony. A dark chuckle sounded behind me, sending waves of terror down my spine. I coughed harshly and winced as the metallic taste of blood that had become all too familiar in recent days filled my mouth._

"_Don't worry, little hero. My friends will take good care of your girlfriend." My captor spoke with a tone of dark glee and let out another maniacal chuckle._

"_Just you and me now, Percy, and you haven't truly seen pain yet..."_

I blinked furiously, both disoriented and confused, as my tear-filled eyes opened fully to see a cloudless blue sky. I shakily sat up once I realized that I was lying on my back and whipped my head in a panic. How did I end up on the ground? How did I end up at camp when only seconds ago I was being tortured in Tartarus?

And more importantly…where was Annabeth? Is she in pain? Is she being tortured? Is she… alive?

I lurched to my feet as my thoughts traveled at lightning speed down dark and twisty roads I had no desire to visit ever again. As my eyes found Annabeth sitting a little ways off on the steps of the Athena Cabin scribbling furiously away in a notebook probably filled with architect-y plans, the reasonable side of my brain (the one Annabeth claims is nonexistent) burst through the terrified haze I'd been stuck in.

It was a flashback.

It wasn't real… now, anyways.

The very same internal clock that I'd been cursing earlier that morning was the one I was thanking profusely now. Thank Poseidon's mighty trident that no other campers were up at 6:30 in the morning. Annabeth hadn't seen me have my… episode, which is another plus. It would only cause her to worry more about me, which is something that she already does enough of, thank you very much.

'_Wow,'_ I thought with dark humor. _'The Fates must really like me today. Two lucky things happened in less than two seconds. That must be a record. Somebody mark it on the calendar!'_

Mentally laughing at my own poor attempt at humor, I smiled and jogged over to Annabeth. She must have heard my footfalls because she was instantly on her feet with her hand behind her back, hiding the dagger I knew she was gripping. My lighthearted gait faltered when I saw the panicked and scared look pass across her face, but pretended to ignore it when the expression was replaced by a beaming smile as she recognized me. 

"I am so impressed, Percy Jackson. Who would have thought that you would be up and conscious before 8 o'clock at least? Where are the flying pigs? I must have missed them!" Annabeth teased, a wicked smiled lighting up her face as her grey eyes twinkled with barely suppressed mirth. 

Catching her tone and playing along to it, I waved my hand dismissively and resumed an "I-am-greater-than-thou" expression that probably looked ridiculous on my face if the way Annabeth was smiling was any indication. 

"If its flying pigs you want, you're a few years too late. The last flying pigs I saw were during the Titan War…" I trailed off dismissively as if I was suddenly the expert on flying pigs and Annabeth simply wasn't worth wasting my precious breath on. I titled my head slightly down, gauging her expression out of the corner of my eye, upon seeing her shaking her head with silent amusement at my antics, resumed my pretentious airs again, and strutted away from her. 

I turned around when I heard clapping. Throwing my arms out in a grand gesture much like a ringmaster in the circus, I bowed dramatically.

"Thank you, thank you all!"

Annabeth laughed – and I mean a genuine laugh, not the "I-pity-you-that-was-a-pathetic-excuse-for-a-joke- so-I'm-going-to-laugh-in-hopes-of-making-this-less -awkward" laugh – and pecked me on the lips quickly. By now, other campers came streaming out of the cabins, probably drawn outside by my wonderful performance… or breakfast (I personally think it was the former), and I knew that my time "alone" with my Wise Girl was over.

Grabbing her smaller hand in mine and praying that this action wasn't seen as some sort of inexcusable PDA on my part (Athena has this weird idea that if Annabeth kisses me, it is okay, but if I kiss her, I must be trying to molest her or something), I followed the growing mob of orange shirts to breakfast. 

'_I will be okay,'_ I thought, as I looked around at my friends and family. I couldn't imagine getting through half of what I had (and no, I don't just mean the wars) without them by my side.

'_As long as I'm not alone, as long as I'm with fellow survivors, I will be just fine.'_

* * *

** S**uspicious was not a word of the complementary, optimistic variety.

The word carried a negative connotation with it; one that reeked of paranoia and hid under the depressing cloud of anger and mistrust. I normally wouldn't call myself a suspicious person (because, seriously? I am not depressing, thank you very much), but today, I would definitely say I was feeling suspicious.

Just to get things clear, it takes a lot to make me, Harry James Potter, suspicious. And no, I don't mean the type of suspicious that makes you want to find out more.

What I'm talking about here is that feeling of paranoid dread that hints at horrible things to come. The kind of suspicious that makes you look over your shoulder every five seconds just to reassure yourself that no monstrous being is about to murder you. I'm talking about an emotion so intense, that every cell in your body practically buzzes with wary energy as it runs on hyper-alert. 

Yeah, that kind. 

I have every right to be a little questioning, though.

I arrived here at Number 12 Grimmauld Place almost a week ago, and boy was I glad to be here. After that whole dementor and the (almost!) expulsion scare, I was glad to be around wizards and witches of the friendly variety… or, what I really should say is that I was glad to be around wizards and witches who weren't trying to a) label me as crazy and throw me in a mad house, b) snap my wand, expel me from Hogwarts and send me back to my aunt and uncle's house, or c) throw me into Azkaban. 

Anyways, I thought that being at Grimmauld Place and away from the Dursley's would finally put me in a prime spot to get some information about Voldemort. Well, that and to hang out with the Weasley's and Hermione (who had coincidentally arrived a few days before me) without the pressures of school and the bullying of the M.D.E. (Mini Death Eater) Slytherins. 

My train of thought was accurate and I thought I had everything planned out. 

Sirius had ever so graciously let Dumbledore use his ancestral home as a headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Spelled out in simple terms, this means that the only organization standing between Voldemort winning and squashing me like a bug would be meeting, planning, and generally congregating at the same place I was staying for the rest of summer. I had thought that this would automatically put me in with these meetings, or at least allow me to soak up valuable information about the activities of my BFF Moldyshorts.

I hate being the Boy-Who-Lived, don't get me wrong, but I had thought that if the fame could get me anything, it would be in with the group trying to halt Voldemort.

I was wrong.

See, in all of my best plans, I forgot to work in one little factor. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on my side (but when is it ever?) and this "one little factor" that I neglected to account for ended up being the wrecking ball that smashed my hopes to bits.

Mrs. Weasley.

Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and I had begged. We had pleaded. We had asked nicely and had used the word 'please' accompanied by innocent smiles. Heck, we had even tried _behaving_ but she wouldn't budge. According to her, we were "just children" who were "too young and innocent to know the horrors of war". Apparently, facing Voldemort every year since I came to Hogwarts and being in mortal danger every second I breathed still put me in the category of "young and innocent". Who knew? 

So now, because of the terrifying persuasive power of Molly Weasley, every Order member was on strict orders not to tell us anything. Great, another brilliant plan that I thought was going smoothly until something unexpected was added to the plan and everything exploded into flames. I felt like I was in potions all over again. 

It's because of all this, and the rather secretive way Dumbledore smiled, that I am suspicious about this. Approximately three seconds ago, the Headmaster had strode into the room that Ron, Hermione and I were lazing about doing literally nothing in and announced that there was going to be an Order meeting in five minutes and our presence was expected. I didn't want to question the man, but I felt something was up… is up, actually, would be more accurate because now, five minutes later, I still have no clue why I'm feeling wary.

I glanced to my right where Hermione was sitting. Even though she was alternating between reading the thick tome that was perched on her lap and arguing with Ron, I could tell that she was wondering about the bipolar behavior of the adults as well. Order members began wandering in and taking seats, but nobody talked. Suddenly feeling like very out of place, I stopped slouching in my chair and tried very hard not to fidget. I frowned slightly and sighed impatiently. 

'_I wish they would just start already. If Mrs. Weasley glares any harder at the cookies she's making, I think they will spontaneously combust!'_ I thought, my mouth quirking up slightly at the image of cookies combusting because of a glare. 

The door to the kitchen slammed open, and Snape swept in looking every inch the bat-like dungeon-dwelling git he is. Dumbledore waited until Snape had seated himself as far away as he could from… well, everybody before standing up with a grave expression on his face.

"I won't beat around the bush. I know you all have busy lives to get back to and you've already been kind enough to respond so promptly to this emergency meeting. There is no way to sugar coat this so I am just going to say it. I have recently come across some disturbing news that has the potential to influence the war…" Dumbledore trailed off and looked seriously around at the gathered order members with solemn blue eyes that were void of their normal twinkle.

He took a deep breath, seemingly to steady himself, and I began to feel nervous. What was so horrible that _Dumbledore_ was scared to say? The man defeated Grindlewald for Merlin's sake!

The Headmaster spoke with a voice that was chilling but sure when he opened his mouth to utter the words that would send Number 12 Grimmauld Place into a state of anarchy.

"Voldemort has a grandson."

* * *

**AN: Okay, please don't hate me! I know this chapter was kind of boring but I had to set up the plot and establish some background information before diving right into the good stuff. **

**I think this story would be fun to write but whether or not I write any more is totally based off the reaction that this chapter receives. **

**I'm totally open to criticism as long as it's constructive. Telling me that you hate my story doesn't really help me know what to fix. **

**Even if you don't have anything outstanding to say, just telling me that you would like my story to continue would make my day. I can see when my story gets views but when people don't respond, I assume that they didn't like it all too much.**

**So, please REVIEW!**

**As a little incentive, here's sneak peak to the next chapter…**

"_Percy! Percy, you have to listen to me!" my mother's desperate begged from the other end of the phone. _

_My fear for her increased exponentially when I heard her voice. Annabeth would call it my "hero complex" but I wanted to rush over and save her from whatever or whoever was causing her to sound so scared. _

"_Mom?" I tentatively asked after a few seconds of silence passed again. _

_I didn't have to wait long for a reply._

"_You have to come home, Percy. You have to come home right now." _

_Then the line went dead and everything was silent. _

**Well, I hoped that tempted you just enough to make you want to review! Thanks bunches! ;)**

**~ Amethyst Raindrops 16 ~**


	2. The Call

**Two Wrongs Equals A Right**

**Author: Amethyst Raindrops 16**

**Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

**Chapter Two:**

_**Excuse me?**_

Sword fighting.

What comes to mind when you hear the words _sword fighting_? If I'm catching your drift (I really don't know what that phrase means, but Paul said it to me once when he was trying to be cool), then you probably are thinking about medieval times.

Images of knights in shining armor atop prancing horses that are draped with colorful banners probably popped into your mind's eye. I bet you practically heard the clinking of the knight's chainmail, the frantic neighs of the horses, and the clanging of swords as they are powerfully slash together...but that's just a guess.

I'm no Rachel, but that's just what I assumed a normal human would think of… although now that I think about it, I don't have much experience being a "normal human". Like none if you consider that I'm technically only half human, but I'm rambling again.

If your mind didn't immediately conjure visions of medieval knights, then you obviously are more creative than me… or you go to Camp Half Blood.

Anybody who is _anybody_ at Camp Half Blood would definitely not think of medieval knights when those words are mentioned. Well, that's not entirely fair of me to say. I suppose that if you like just arrived at camp or, totally hypothetically, got all your memories stolen by somebody (cough, cough, HERA) and wound up, say, at a camp for Roman demigods, then you wouldn't know this. But seriously, apart from those two exceptions, literally everybody thinks of this.

Me.

I know, I know, hold your tidal waves, geez. I am not being vain, egotistical, or self-centered here; I'll leave that to the daughters of Aphrodite (not you, Piper). I'm not tooting my own horn… or conch shell. I'll leave that job to Chiron when he summons us for campfire or meals. And, believe it or not, I'm not even saying that with the least bit of bias because actually, I think of Riptide whenever sword fighting is mentioned.

Where was I again? Oh yes, people think about me when they think about sword fighting at CHB. Right, gotcha, check, I remember. Stupid ADHD, making me get all off track.

Anyways, I actually know this for a fact though. Annabeth was doing some smarty-pants survey project thing about what images the human mind associates with certain words or phrases. I was a little confused by the whole thing mainly because I can't imagine why anybody, child of Athena or no, would willingly do a project in their spare time. I have much better things to do. Like sleep. Or save the world.

But whatever, and as part of the survey my oh-so-clever girlfriend went around camp asking people what they thought of when the word "sword fighting" was mentioned. I have to admit, I was partly flattered, but mostly I was just embarrassed.

Connor and Travis Stoll said that (and I quote directly), "We think of Percy totally saving the day and killing some monsters. You know what we're talking about right, 'Beth?"

They looked like they were going to say more according to Annabeth, but my Wise Girl attacked them seconds later for calling her "'Beth". I guess the world will never know what other genius the twins were going to impart on us.

Clarisse LaRue had grunted that she thought of "Prissy smashing some monster faces in… but that wasn't a compliment! I still think its just dumb luck how he always manages to avoid certain death every time…"

Annabeth went to go ask Grover, but he was off with his girlfriend, Juniper and we didn't want to –ahem- disturb them.

The point is, kids at Camp are used to swords.

While pretty much everybody else on earth looks at a sword and thinks about donating it to the nearest museum about the Middle Ages, we look at a sword like its our lifeline. Well, to some it kind of is. Like me, for example.

We don't bat an eye at the sight of teenagers carrying a bow in one hand and holding a full quiver of arrows in the other, heading off into the woods. Seeing a ten-year-old girl pull two throwing knives from the twin sheathes around her waist and sprint off into the direction of a roaring monster is barely acknowledged. We don't think twice about using spears as walking sticks when we're bored or about the possible dangers of climbing a "rock wall" that has real lava on it. War games are common and the practice of "using your words" when frustrated tends to be forgotten in favor of the more effective method that includes our weapon of choice.

To us, it isn't weird to have trunks full of weapons at the end of our beds and large shields propped up against the wall. We've gotten over the annoyance at having clothes with random holes or slashed rips in them and have become best friends with any stain remover that can take blood out of our shirts. There isn't a half-blood within the safety of this camp that isn't capable of suiting up in full battle armor in under two minutes…not that such a feet doesn't take practice though. That's why we keep baggies of ambrosia, bottles of nectar and rolls of bandages on the tops of our nightstands. Duh.

We are good at "old" stuff, professionals really. As depressing as it is, we have to be, or we wouldn't survive.

What we do have problems with, however, is the new stuff.

And by "new stuff", I mean everything from old, box-like cellular phones to the sleekest iPhone. We have issues with the chunkiest of computers and the smallest of laptops. Sometimes things like iPods are okay, but its much more common to see CD players, you know, just to be safe.

A demigod using electronic devices is like putting up road flares, sending up a search light, and blaring an alarm that screams "Come and get me!" to every single monster within fifty miles.

Yeah. That bad.

Because of this rather unfortunate side effect of electronics, especially cell phones, we don't have them. Okay, yes, there is always that one kid who has one but do you know where it stays 99.9 percent of the time? In Chiron's office…and a fat lot of good it does there.

Sounds like the ringing of cell phones and the beeping of incoming text messages just aren't heard in Camp Half Blood. I wonder how many kids here actually know how to use technology? I mean, I do because I grew up with my Mom in the real world but what about the kids that grow up here? What about the teenagers whose families have abandoned them and are year-rounders?

Maybe that's why everyone acted so shocked when, a few hours ago at dinner, the shrill ringing of the ancient phone – one of those with the curly cords and the spinning dial that you use instead of numbered buttons – that sits in Chiron's office cut through the air.

The usual dull roar that accompanies every meal was replaced by a suspicious and questioning silence that never, I repeat _never,_ happens at Camp Half Blood. Put a bunch of hungry, ADHD teenagers in one area with plenty of food surrounded by their friends, and you haven't a prayer in all of Olympus of getting them quiet. But the phone did.

It was eerie, the way that all heads turned to look towards the Big House, almost as if we expected some horrible monster to come charging out. None did, obviously, but our reactions would be more fit for an event like that than the simple trilling of a landline phone.

Maybe a half a second passed before Chiron jolted up from his position at the head table next to Mr. D and cantered off towards the Big House, the swish of his horse's tail with the force of his departure sending the silverware clattering and shaking. Chiron's abrupt movement and the now faint pounding of his hooves were not abnormally loud. In fact, any other day, such noises wouldn't have been even worth reacting to… but this could be due to the fact that on a normal day, noises like those wouldn't have been heard over the regular sounds of demigods eating. Regardless, we all jumped.

I think that was proof of just how scared and shocked we all were.

We freaking _jumped._

Not the kind of jump that little kids do when they are too short to reach something. The kind of jump you involuntarily do as a knee-jerk reaction to something that startles you.

It isn't any abnormal feat for people to startle in response to loud noises. My mom, for example, is the kind of lady who is very jumpy. I accidentally set my glass down on top of my plate during dinner once, making a clinking sound, and you would have thought that somebody just dropped a bomb down on our house. Honest.

But see, those kinds of reactions are reserved for normal people. People whose scariest moment involves killing a spider (okay yes, Annabeth, I know that is terrifying to do) or flying in a plane with a petrifying of heights (ow, geez Thalia, there is no need to throw lightning at me!). In other words, not demigods like us.

We are tough. We expect the unexpected. We know how to face our fears. We act brave and fearless in the face of danger. We toe the line between the dead and the living by simply existing. We are in mortal peril every single day. We know how to fight for our lives because we've been doing it for, well, all our lives. We are battle-hardened soldiers. We are protectors of things most people aren't even aware they need to be protected from.

We are demigods.

And yet, the thing that scares us enough to make us all collectively jump ten feet into the air is the sounds of a centaur rising and running. The embarrassment that was clearly written in the blushes and smiles on everybody's faces would have been funny, if we hadn't immediately lapsed into tense silence barely a second later. I guess everybody was too tense to joke around.

After a few seconds, we all stopped staring at the red door of the Big House that Chiron had disappeared behind just a few moments earlier and slowly turned back to our meals because, c'mon guys, we are still ADHD. But we ate silently and solemnly, if we ate anything more at all. Most of us just picked at our food and moved it around on our plates, appetites gone with the shock of the situation.

You may think we were all overreacting, and in reality, we probably were. But we've been trained through the course of our short and usually miserable lives that whenever something totally unexpected happens, nothing good comes out of it. The last time the phone rang at camp, well, I don't remember. It was probably before I came which just further proves how rare the phone ringing is. Even Mr. D was less grumpy than usual, which wasn't much of an improvement I have to say.

I glanced sideways at Annabeth, who was worrying her lower lip and tracing invisible patterns on the scarred wood of the Athena table. She was probably running through all the possible outcomes and causes and still coming up without a plausible answer. I was just about to go over to her, when suddenly the door to the Big House opened and Chiron's silhouette could be seen in the doorway.

"Perseus Jackson, a word please."

I've stood before the Olympians' Council. I've returned from the very depths of Tartarus. Heck, I've even asked out Annabeth Minerva Chase, daughter of Athena. And yet, when I heard Chiron bellow those words, I felt strangely like I was being lead up to the gallows.

With every eye glued to me, I quickly schooled my face to mask my worry, my terror, and, worst of all, the flashbacks that were pushing into my mind with this whole situation and stood up with all the confidence and grace I could manage. My face a picture of solemnity and curiosity, I met Annabeth's eyes and managed a grin. It was a fake smile and she knew it, but she smiled back slightly regardless, thankful for my attempt to make her feel better.

Shoulders back and head held high, I jogged easily over to where Chiron was waiting, pausing only slightly to duck inside the red building, and looked at my mentor curiously.

I've gotten good at reading people. When you've fought your way as a powerful influencer in two wars, you kind of learn the art of picking up on little indicators that hint at hidden emotions.

I wasn't happy with the feeling I was getting from Chiron. He looked aged and tired. We all look that way after everything we've seen and done, but he looked more than just weary. He looked almost… sad? Unsettled by the direction my thoughts were turning with my overactive imagination always assuming the worst, I decided to break the silence.

"Chiron, what's going on?"

He looked at me with those ancient, soulful eyes and gestured to a seat. He was stalling, which made me even more nervous. My ADHD was going crazy and every cell in my body was charged with a nervous buzz, so the last thing I wanted to do was sit down and wait for him to speak. But out of respect for him and my own curiosity to know what in the name of all the gods was going on, I sat without complaint.

My eyes darted around the room, resting on the greatest offender of all in the room, the telephone. I didn't stare at the phone because it had scared all of camp to Olympus and back, but because it wasn't resting in its cradle. I didn't know that much about telephones with cords, but I had thought that the way you hung up was by setting it back down it the cradle. The cradle was empty and the curled black cord lead to the phone only a few inches away, lying on the desk.

That's when my brain made the connection. Whoever had called camp, was still on the other line.

I was just beginning to process what this might mean for me, for Chiron, and for camp, when the centaur spoke in a voice that was suspiciously soft.

"Percy, your mother is one the phone. She says it's urgent."

Terror washed over me and I was sure that if I hadn't taken Chiron's offered seat, then I would have stumbled backwards.

My head whipped back towards the phone and I reached for the offending device, snatching it from its seemingly innocent position on the desk and holding it up to my ear.

"Hello? Mom?" I asked urgently into the receiver.

I didn't have to wait long to hear a whispered response from the other end.

"Percy! Percy, you have to listen to me!" my mother's desperate voice begged from the other end of the phone.

My fear for her increased exponentially when I heard her voice. Annabeth would call it my "hero complex" but I wanted to rush over and save her from whatever or whoever was causing her to sound so scared.

"Mom?" I tentatively asked after a few seconds of silence passed again. When she spoke again, there was something different in her tone.

"I can't why now, Percy, but you need to come home. Right now."

There was a clicking sound, and the line went dead. I lowered the receiver from where it had been pressed against my head with wooden movements and set it quietly back into its cradle. I couldn't help but think that something terrible was coming, but I couldn't think what.

That was a few hours ago that I heard the panic and fear in my mother's voice, but as I hastily shove my belongings into a duffle bag, I ponder them once more. I tossed an extra bag of ambrosia on top and zipped up the bag. The sun was beginning to set, and I easily tossed my backpack over one shoulder and picked up the duffle, surveying my now empty cabin in the pink-tinged light of twilight.

Would I ever be back?

I shook my head, as if the motion would knock such depressing thoughts from my head, and strode out of my cabin, shutting the door firmly behind me.

Chiron had told me not to tell anybody anything, including Annabeth, so I didn't have any good-byes to say. Normally, I would have protested against leaving without telling anybody, especially after what we've all been through, but I got the feeling, as I often did with Chiron, that he knew more than he was letting on.

Argus was waiting in the Camp van to drive me to the bus stop. I wanted nothing more than to run back to the warmth of the campfire and sit down between Annabeth and Grover. My mind showed me happy scenarios where I forgot all about my mother, threw my stuff back in my cabin, and continued on to campfire with the rest of my friends. With the rest of my family.

But I could never do that, and I wouldn't leave my mother if she needed me. I walked down the shadowed hill and got in the car. Argus didn't say anything, something I was grateful for because I didn't think I would be very good conversation right at the moment. Argus started the van and began to drive away. I craned my neck around and twisted in my seat to glimpse my home one last time, before settling back in my seat.

'_Well, Percy, it looks like the quiet life was never for you,' _I thought to myself.

'_What was I thinking? Did I actually expect that everything would be peaceful for all of eternity? With luck like mine, I should have known better.'_

* * *

**AN: I am SO sorry! Wow, there was NEVER supposed to be this much time in between updates. Ah! I'm sorry, guys! **

**I can't really offer any excuses other than I had like 2 essays and a movie project due and I was SUPER busy with homework so I had no time to write! October is one of my busiest months (I turned sixteen!), but I pinky swear promise to update quicker next time!**

**Whew! Now that my apologies are out of the way… can I just say WOW?!**

**I never expected to get so many reviews and follows/favorites just from the first chapter! I literally don't know how to express my happiness, joy, and pure elation! **

**I am SO glad that you guys like my writing and this plot! I thought that maybe one or two people would like it, but I was blown away with the number of people who thought this wasn't total garbage! THANK YOU EVERYONE! Your reviews made me smile, laugh, and gave me inspiration! **

**This chapter was hard for me to write, but ****please review**** and tell me what you liked.**

**Up next time… Dumbledore goes with Harry, Sirius, and Remus to the Jackson house!**

**~ Amethyst Raindrops 16 ~**


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